


Punishment

by Kantayra



Series: Yukimura/Sanada Dom/sub 'Verse [1]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: BDSM, Humiliation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-30
Updated: 2009-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanada begs for Yukimura's forgiveness after his defeat at Regionals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Because I like my Yukimura _hardcore_ like you wouldn't believe... o.O

When Sanada finally came to Yukimura’s hospital room with a bouquet of white tulips and purple hyacinths (guaranteed to bring forgiveness, the nutty lady in the flower shop had said, and Sanada was desperate enough to try it) and Rikkaidai’s silver medal, Yukimura just blinked at him, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I tri—” Sanada began, but stopped himself. He knew well enough that trying his best wasn’t good enough; he had to _win_. Instead, he extended the flowers to where Yukimura lay, looking dainty and impossibly fragile, dwarfed by his hospital bed. “Forgive me.”

Yukimura blinked exceptionally slowly once again and considered him.

“I have failed you,” Sanada tried again and hung his head in shame.

Yukimura remained silent for a moment longer, just enough to make Sanada squirm, and then said very carefully, “No.”

Sanada looked up in surprise. Was Yukimura actually being forgiving for once? Hope swelled in his chest, only to turn to dread when Yukimura graced him with his gentlest smile.

“No,” Yukimura repeated in that soft, heavenly voice, “I don’t think this is how this encounter went at all.”

Sanada gulped. “How did it go?” he asked in his most obedient voice.

“Hmm,” Yukimura considered and shifted against the pillows into a sitting position. “If I remember correctly, you came in on your hands and knees, _begging_ for my forgiveness.”

Sanada nodded. “I was never here,” he agreed before heading back out the door.

He paused to take a deep breath in the hallway. He could tell now that Yukimura was in a dismal mood, even after surviving his near brush with death, and doubtless had many more tasks for Sanada to complete before things would be right between them again. He glanced down the hallway both ways to make sure no one was looking before getting down on all fours and _crawling_ back into Yukimura’s room.

“Captain,” he pleaded, bowing his head, “forgive me.” He set out the flowers and silver medal before him in offering.

“That’s more like it.” Yukimura had moved so that he was sitting sideways on the bed, his back propped up by the wall and his feet dangling over the side. They still looked deathly pale after the surgery. “What happened next was, I believe, that I – very graciously – agreed to hear your pleas. So you pressed your forehead to the floor and told me what a failure you were and how you weren’t worthy of wearing the Rikkaidai uniform. Now, continue.”

Sanada bit back any instinctive objection and rested his forehead against the linoleum. After all, it was nothing less than he deserved. “Thank you for listening to my pleas, captain. I am unworthy of your generosity and the Rikkaidai uniform.”

“Elaborate more.” Yukimura smiled sweetly.

“I have shamed myself, Rikkaidai, and you with my disgraceful defeat,” Sanada continued. “This silver medal is a blemish upon us all, and I should be stricken from the regulars for my miserable loss. I don’t even deserve to lick your boot.”

Yukimura wiggled his bare toes. “But I’m not wearing boots, Genichiro,” he pointed out gently. “Still, the idea has merit.” He studied Sanada’s bowed head for a moment, while Sanada awaited his verdict. “Yes,” he finally concluded, “I do believe that is what happened next. I allowed you to kiss my foot, and you thanked me profusely for the privilege.”

Sanada swallowed the lump in his throat, and his pride. Yukimura has asked this of him once before (although Yukimura _was_ wearing shoes then) when Sanada had come in third after both Yukimura and Yanagi while running laps during second year. Sanada’s face still burned red at the memory.

“Th-Thank you,” he stuttered uncharacteristically over his words as he crawled over to Yukimura and bent before him in submission. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He removed his hands from the floor to cradle Yukimura’s delicate foot between them. “My captain is too generous.” He bent and pressed his lips against the instep of Yukimura’s foot.

Yukimura sighed, and Sanada could feel the very end of his full-body shiver. “Cover it with kisses,” he instructed matter-of-factly. “Keep begging me.”

Sanada’s cheeks flushed red, but he did as he was told. “I’m begging you.” He kissed the arch. “I’m not worthy.” His lips moved to the top and center. “Please, I’m so sorry.” He pressed his mouth against Yukimura’s ankle.

Yukimura smiled angelically down at him in judgment. “Even the coldest of captains couldn’t fail to be moved by such heartfelt pleas.”

Sanada looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

“However,” Yukimura chided him, “I heard who it was you lost to. If it had been Tezuka or someone of that caliber, then perhaps, yes, all would be forgiven. But a _first-year_?”

Sanada bit his tongue. He wanted to say that Echizen was no ordinary first-year. Wisely, however, he did not challenge Yukimura. “It is unforgivable,” he agreed.

“For this,” Yukimura declared, “I must devise a special punishment. I need to know how genuinely sorry you are, so that I can trust you again. It’s for your own good, really.”

“Of course,” Sanada kissed Yukimura’s foot again for good measure. “You’re too kind.” Inwardly, his mind was reeling. Yukimura was the master of coming up with humiliating punishments, and Sanada wasn’t sure what an infraction this grievous would cost him.

“I’m so glad you agree,” Yukimura smiled at him. He reached down with deceptive gentleness and removed Sanada’s cap. “Now,” he explained, “suck my cock.”

Sanada half jerked to his feet, eyes wide with shock. “Wh-What!”

Yukimura’s hands caught his shoulders and gently pushed him back down. “I didn’t say you could get off your knees yet,” he scolded.

“O-Of course.” Sanada dropped back down and glanced nervously at Yukimura. “B-But you can’t… I…”

“You heard your punishment,” Yukimura informed him primly. “Will you accept it?”

Sanada’s face flushed. Yukimura had never asked anything like _this_ before. But, then, Sanada had never lost before, either. Did he really deserve to keep his pride, after he had failed so shamefully on the tennis courts? For a moment he thought he might say no, that this was just _too_ much. Then he looked up into Yukimura’s eyes, at the disappointment there, and Sanada realized that this didn’t even _begin_ to push the limits of what he would do to have Yukimura smile at him just once more.

“Of course,” Sanada repeated more firmly. “Anything my captain desires.” He bowed his head once again.

Yukimura’s cheeks tinged slightly as well, and he pushed his hospital robes up to reveal long, thin legs, pale thighs, and finally…

Sanada gulped. Yukimura wasn’t too large, at least, but proportional to the rest of his body. At least this wouldn’t be physical punishment, just an emotional one. “What if one of the nurses walks in?” he asked, ashamed to realize that he was stalling, but doing it nonetheless.

“I’ll explain to them that my obedient little bitch is apologizing to me for his disgraceful behavior,” Yukimura beamed beatifically.

Sanada winced at the description of himself, but he didn’t bother to disagree, even in his own mind. He was, quite completely, Yukimura’s obedient little bitch, and always had been. He’d just never had it thrown so blatantly in his face before.

Yukimura’s body flushed as Sanada crawled closer, and Sanada could see the muscles on the insides of his thighs trembling with anticipation. “Are you sure you can do this?” Sanada asked, concerned.

Yukimura gave him a cold sneer. “I will be released in two days’ time. I’m not a helpless invalid anymore!” he snapped.

“Of course,” Sanada agreed. “I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of Yukimura’s thigh in supplication, right where the muscle twitched. He had only meant to show concern for his captain, but being laid up and helpless for so long must have been unbearable to someone like Yukimura. Sanada hadn’t meant to hit a nerve.

“Get on with it,” Yukimura instructed him imperiously.

Sanada nodded once and moved in on Yukimura’s half-hard cock. He bit back the sharp sting of degradation and opened his mouth, taking as much as he could inside all at once.

Yukimura gasped, and his fingers wound into Sanada’s short hair, holding him in place. “Yes, just like that…”

Sanada could feel Yukimura hardening and lengthening in his mouth, but he didn’t dare move against Yukimura’s hands. Finally, just when he felt he was about to choke, Yukimura guided his head back and down again, fucking Sanada’s mouth slowly and purposefully.

Sanada’s skin felt sticky and uncomfortable, like he was itching to get out of it. The feeling of Yukimura filling his mouth was overwhelming, but even more powerful was the _smell_. It was a smell Sanada knew from the shameful nights he’d awoken to find his bed soiled, but stronger now, and somehow subtly different because it was Yukimura’s scent instead.

Sanada squeezed his eyes shut tight and let Yukimura do with him as he willed. His cheeks burned with the realization that he was half hard himself at this humiliation. He really was disgraceful. It was a miracle Yukimura would look at him at all.

“You swallowed when I came,” Yukimura informed him breathlessly, returning to their little game from earlier. “You swallowed _everything_.”

Yukimura decreed it to be so, and Sanada had no choice but to obey. Yukimura didn’t last much longer than that; he was still weak from the surgery. The thick, salty fluid hit Sanada’s tongue in a sharp burst, and only Sanada’s determination not to fail Yukimura a second time prevented him from coughing it back up. His entire body recoiled against the action, but he forced himself to keep it in his mouth and then swallow deliberately.

Finally, Yukimura pushed Sanada’s head back with a satisfied sigh. He crawled slowly back into his bed, leaving Sanada kneeling by the side. “Oh, Genichiro…” Yukimura sighed happily.

Sanada didn’t move.

“Mmm, right.” Yukimura yawned. “You have earned the right to stand before me once more. Now, go to the bathroom to relieve yourself, and then hurry quickly back. We have to plan for Nationals.”

Cheeks still burning, Sanada rose to his feet. “Captain,” he nodded, and went to the bathroom to do exactly that.

Mortification overcame him, even as he touched himself in the stall, grunted Yukimura’s name in completion, and prayed that no one else would come in and catch him. No one did.

Afterwards, Sanada washed his hands in the sink and was forced to look at his own reflection. He knew the sight in the mirror only too well: it was the same disgraced countenance he had faced after losing in Regionals. He had thought that he’d never know a humiliation greater than his defeat that day; as usual, Yukimura had proved him wrong.

There was hope in that, though. Even after such a crushing defeat, Yukimura could find something more demeaning to inflict upon him. In a way, it gave Sanada the power to move on from his failure, to return to the courts and attempt to retake his honor there. Yukimura had been cruel, but it was also a strange form of kindness. Sanada felt his resolve harden then and there. He _would_ return to top form for Nationals, and he _would_ win, because victory was _everything_. The only humiliation he would ever let himself know again would be at Yukimura’s hands.

He blushed at the thought, embarrassed to admit how eager he was for a repeat of this particular humiliation.

Having finally composed himself, he returned to Yukimura’s room. In the meantime, Yukimura had knocked aside all the cards and gifts his family and other teammates had left him. They lay scattered, unwanted, across the hospital room floor. In their place, in the favored spot on the nightstand right next to Yukimura, were the flowers that Sanada had brought him.

Yukimura sniffed the hyacinths daintily while Sanada watched. “They’re beautiful, Genichiro,” he smiled happily. “You really shouldn’t have.”

Sanada felt his heart twist in a way that was painful and wonderful all at once at the sight of that smile. He approached the bed cautiously and sat on the edge. He could see now that Yukimura had the silver medal in his hand. The other hand clung tightly to Sanada’s cap.

“I suppose it’s all right,” Yukimura studied the medal. “It just means that Rikkaidai needs me. I wouldn’t want to be superfluous.”

“You could never be superfluous,” Sanada assured him.

Yukimura bit his lip, and a wicked little smirk crossed his face. “Come here and lie with me,” he requested softly. “I’m afraid that perhaps I’ve overtaxed myself, after all.”

Sanada didn’t even bother to hesitate; Yukimura’s wish was his command. He laid his head down on Yukimura’s breast where Yukimura indicated. It should have felt ridiculous. His large body completely smothered Yukimura on the small bed, covering him entirely. For some reason, though, with Yukimura, this submissive position felt completely natural.

Yukimura carded his fingers through Sanada’s hair gently as he drifted off to sleep. “Rikkaidai will never lose again,” he informed Sanada.

“Never,” Sanada said it like a prayer against Yukimura’s chest.

“We will crush all opposition at Nationals.”

“Yes, captain.”

“And you will not leave my side ever again.”

Sanada knew it was true as he felt Yukimura’s breath even out into sleep. He would fight to the bloody death, suffer any and all indignities, and push himself to his limits and beyond just to stay by Yukimura’s side like this. _This_ was his true punishment. Sanada couldn’t have been happier with it.


End file.
